If I Should Not Return
by SingularToast
Summary: How could she feel merry when her heart was so laden with regret and sadness? What was he to do when he couldn't rid his mind of her?
1. If I Should Not Return

**Continuing with my new-found love of all things Garsiv/Tamina ...**

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><p>She walked through the quiet corridor in silence, slowly approaching the great hall where men and women reveled in the Persians' return over food and spirits. She, too, should have been in there with them, smiling and dancing and enjoying the return of her new family with her equally new husband.<p>

But how could she feel merry when her heart was so laden with regret and sadness?

Days, weeks, months had come and gone since the might of the Persian army had last sat at Alamut's doorstep, and now, after the conquering of the barbarians of Koshkan, they had returned to celebrate their victory. Lead by none other than her husband's own brother.

A man she dearly wanted to set eyes on again, but whom she dreaded to see.

But the Gods, it seemed, planned a cruelty for her that day.

A hand reached for hers before she could enter the great hall, dragging her aside with a muffled shriek into a curtained alcove. Hot lips covered hers, a rough voice growled honeyed words against her skin, and those familiar hands hurried to caress her in ways she thought she would never feel again.

"Garsiv," she murmured, a plea against his ministrations. "Anyone could see."

"Let them," he replied defiantly, cupping her face with both hands so he could look into her eyes. "Maybe then I can live without this burden."

"Or die fighting for it," she replied, shaking her head and regretfully wrenching herself away from his touch. "If Dastan should see us-"

An almost feral growl tore from Garsiv's lips and he paced away from her. "Have I been gone so long that my brother is all you think of now?" he asked, wounded.

"No!" Reaching forward she grasped his shoulder and forced him to turn to her. Then she paused. "But ... he is my husband. It is not wrong for me to think of him."

Her implication didn't go unnoticed.

"But it's wrong of you to think of me?"

"I've thought only of you," she admitted in a whisper, her gaze dropping away, unable to meet his eyes. "I lay awake at night frozen with fear at thoughts of you."

She could feel his gaze pinning her, demanding with his eyes alone that she explain herself.

"How can I be sure you'll return?" She asked, her voice so low she wondered if he heard her. "I can't keep you with me, I can rarely ask of your safety. You were born to lead battles, to fight for your Kingdom, and I-" Her voice broke. "I lay awake at night dreading that the next kiss will be our last."

"That will never happen," he confidently promised her, but even she could hear the wavering in his voice. "Tamina."

Looking up, finally meeting his gaze again, Princess Tamina leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, savouring his taste and scent one last time, hoping with all her heart that this brief embrace could sustain her.

"But it must," she whispered, her heart breaking as she turned and fled.

Away from the great hall. Away from her husband. Away from _him_.


	2. Wash Away My Sins

Sinking into the hot, steamy bliss of the bathing pool, Garsiv tipped his head back with a groan of satisfaction. Months of sleeping on furs and travelling the roads of Persia made his war-weary body ache. He needed rest, he needed succour, and this steam bath only scratched the tip.

What he truly needed, what his body tensed in longing for, was the warmth of a soft bed and and equally warm, soft body to lie beside. As a Prince of Persia and a great warrior he could have his pick of women. A snap of his fingers and they would rush to his aid, eager to satisfy his every whim. But with all the women in all the Kingdoms, he had to desire _her_.

His jaw clenched in frustration. His shoulders tensed and his fists curled with the need to lash out.

But he couldn't. Who was he to blame? Tamina, for putting her loyalty and the vows she made before her people first? Or himself, for foolishly believing they could continue their tryst, that the memory of the nights they had shared would be enough to tie her to him in the months he had been gone.

For they had tied him to her. He would lie awake at night, his body drenched and tense, looking for a release that wouldn't come, all from the memory of her soft lips and supple body.

Groaning, Garsiv slid lower until the steaming liquid engulfed him, hoping the scented water that flooded his senses would wash away the impure thoughts of his brother's wife.

Eventually he resurfaced, shaking droplets from his unruly hair and scrubbing a hand over his face. Still the image of Tamina remained.

"Damn you," he muttered, covering his face with both hands.

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><p><strong>AN: An unplanned short follow-up :)**


	3. Don't Start This Again

**Another unplanned follow up ... ;)**

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><p>He was mad, sun-addled, surely, and starved of good sense. But sense had ways flown his mind where she was concerned.<p>

Garsiv walked the halls of the palace quickly, his travel robes still trailing dust through the air from his journey. He'd barely given the groom time to catch the reins he threw at the boy before he dismounted and left the courtyard, hurrying away.

He was thirsting for more than water after his time in the desert.

Estimating he had only a few moments to spare before Tus and Dastan would hear of his arrival and seek him out, Garsiv knew he had to move fast.

He finally spotted her emerging from her chamber, alone. Good.

"Tamina."

She turned at the sound of his voice just as he reached her side, but he didn't give her a chance to speak a word before his lips were on her. Encouraging her back into the chamber, he shut the door behind him and leaned back to further enjoy the woman in his arms.

Their lips clung, parted, pressed again, and it still wasn't enough. He grasped her by the back of her thighs, ready to lift and move her further into the room when she spoke.

"No."

The word didn't register straight away, his mind still focussed wholly on her.

"Garsiv, stop."

He groaned, dropping his forehead to her shoulder. "Why should I?"

"We had this discussion already," she whispered.

"No," he said. "You talked and didn't give me a chance to argue. I'm arguing now."

"You've done nothing but kiss me!"

"A solid argument." Her small smile gave him hope when he should have none.

"Persian—"

His lips twisted involuntarily into a snarl. "I'm back to Persian now? You can't even speak my name?"

Eyeing him wearily, Tamina whispered, "Garsiv."

"Again." He stepped closer, crowding her.

"Garsiv, I—"

"Softer. Whisper it."

"Gar—"

He drew her in close, a hand at the back of her neck encouraging her to speak into his ear. The hitch in her breath made him suck in a deep breath of his own.

"Garsiv," she said finally, her lips brushing his cheek.

Groaning, he buried his face against her throat, pressing a kiss hard on her neck, breathing in the scent of incense, oils, and something uniquely _Tamina_.

"I'm not ready to give you up."

The words were spoken softly against her skin, a whispered secret that he wasn't even sure he wanted her to hear. Her grip flexed where she held his arms, and he watched her throat where the thundering beat of her heart was clearly visible.

She placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at her. "You're making this very hard for me."

"It doesn't have to be," he told her, but she shook her head.

"I'm still married. Nothing has changed."

Voices could be heard in the hallway, making their way closer and closer to Tamina's chamber.

The two lovers separated just as Dastan and Tus burst in, cursing Garsiv for not seeking them out and delighting in his return.

But he continued to look her way until he caught her eye. A blush stole over her face and her gaze skittered away again.

This wasn't over.


End file.
